Forgotten
by SittingUnderDarkSkies
Summary: Sequel of sorts to 'Dear Arthur'. Merlin has almost given up hope on Arthur ever returning, in fact he has pretty much given up hope in everything. But then Arthur returns, and things can only get better... Can't they? Rated 'T' for mentions of self-harm, attempted suicide, and possible violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! So thanks for the reviews on 'Dear Arthur'! I thought I'd take some of your suggestions and write a sequel to it, although this could be read alone.  
Please review of what you think of the chapter, and whether or not I should continue!**

**Disclaimer: Although I would really love to; I do not own Merlin. **

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Grass stiff with morning frost crunched underfoot as Arthur Pendragon jogged along the shoreline of the glass-like lake. His measured breaths came out in small clouds of swirling mist, which rose towards the crisp, blue morning sky. His heart was beating a steady rhythm in his chest, pumping warm blood around his body that fought away the biting cold. Headphones in his ears blasted out music, trainer clad feet beat the ground in time with the song. Around him the world was silent, frozen in the watery morning light.

Arthur had always liked early mornings. They held a magical quality to them, as if it were a time when the world was most alive, enjoying its time of piece before the messy humans rose for the day and clogged the clear air with their car fumes, and disrupted the peaceful silence with loud voices and worried minds. By the lake in the morning, Arthur could almost forget that other people existed; the place was desolate, forgotten, untouched by the human hand. No one ever came here, Arthur could not understand why, but he was happy for it. He felt like the place was his somehow, and that any other person would be an intruder to its secluded silence. Here, the worries of his daily life that cluttered his mind throughout the day were left behind, and his mind felt clear and sharp.

In his pocket, Arthur's phone vibrated, and sighing he slowed to a walk. He took a moment to ease his breathing, and then fished the still ringing phone out.

"Hello?" He said, slightly irritably; annoyed that someone would disturb him on his morning run.

"Arthur?" Spoke a woman's voice, sounding uncertain, and Arthur couldn't help but smile.

"Hello, Gwen."

"Oh good," She said sounding relived, "I wasn't sure I was going to be able to reach you… Sorry about calling so early,"

"Its fine," Arthur said, "I was up anyway, couldn't sleep."

"Oh, good- No, sorry, I mean; It's obviously not good that you couldn't sleep, but good that I didn't wake you up."

Arthur laughed, "I knew what you meant. So what's up?"

"Oh sorry, it's… Well Arthur, it's about your father." Arthur felt worry creep into his chest, along with slight disappointment. Of course Gwen wouldn't just be calling him at this time for no reason; she was probably covering an early shift at the hospital.

"Is he okay?" He said warily, afraid of what might come next.

There was silence for a second, then an excited laugh. "He's awake."

Arthur's eyes widened and he clutched the phone tightly to his ear. "I… He's… What?" Arthur couldn't process the situation. _I must be dreaming, _he thought.

"He's awake, Arthur." Gwen repeated, and Arthur could tell she was smiling. His mind processed that fact slowly, not quite taking it in.

"Is… Is he okay?" He managed to ask, the simple words causing his tongue to stumble in his haste to get them out.

Gwen's voice took a formal tone, _probably reading off a chart_, he thought. "Well, he's a bit weak and confused, but that's only to be expected. He's drinking and eating already, and talking. It really is remarkable Arthur, he seems completely normal."

Arthur stared out over the lake, and mentally thanked every god he could think of. His father was awake, and not just that, _he was going to be fine. _He shook his head at the ludicrously of it, almost laughing out loud with relief.

"Arthur?" Gwen questioned, and Arthur realized that he hadn't spoken for a while.

"Sorry, I just… I'm so relived Gwen… For a while I thought…" Arthur trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence. He felt guilty for it now, but he had all but given up hope on his father awakening.

"I know, Arthur." Gwen said understandingly, there was a brief pause, "He's been asking for you."

Arthur smiled, "Can I come down now?"

"Well, they're still running him through some tests, but I'm sure I can pull a few strings."

"Thank you," Arthur said gratefully, "Tell him I'll be there in about ten minutes?"

Gwen agreed, then rung off. Arthur slid his phone back into his pocket with a smile on his face, and with much more haste then before, jogged back the way he had come.

The hospital was a several miles from Arthur's apartment, located just outside the busy town. On a normal day you were lucky to get there in under half an hour, the main road filled with a constant barrage of cars and trucks, eager to get to their various destinations and taking no notice of the countryside around them. Thankfully, this early in the morning only a few cars graced the road and Arthur managed to get to the hospital in the promised ten minutes. Pulling into the near empty car park he locked his small, battered car and strode confidently towards the entrance. The hospital itself was a large, foreboding building; the white paint, dirty with time, gave the building an abandoned feel. Despite the neglected outside, the interior was warm and welcoming, if you could ignore the ever lingering smell of disinfectant. Arthur strode into the reception area and up to the tired looking blonde on the front desk. She looked at him expectantly, hands poised on the keyboard of her computer, and smiled sweetly.

"Good morning sir, is there anything that I can help you with?"

"I'm here to see my Father, Uthur Pendragon?"

The blond tapped at the keyboard, studying the screen in front of her. "Yep," She said after a minute, "He should be in the Day Room, up on floor seven. Do you know the way?"

Arthur nodded and assured her that he did, and then made his way towards the double doors on his left. Passing through them he walked down a long hall way, and finally hopped into the elevator at the end of it. He pressed the button for floor seven, and watched as the doors slid shut. He tapped his fingers against his thigh impatiently, eager to reach his destination.

It had been three months since Arthur had last spoken to his father. Three months since he had opened the door to two policemen who looked at him with fake sympathy as they told him of the car crash that had endangered his father's life. Three months Uthur had been in a coma, and for three months Arthur had done nothing but worry. The doctors had told him to accustom himself to the fact that his father may simply not wake up, and he had followed their advice. He felt guilty for it now, but if Arthur was being honest with himself, he had given up hope.

The elevator doors slid open, and Arthur stepped out into the long hallway. The walls were covered in colourful artwork, and the odd child's drawing was pinned up here and there, Arthur smiled at the brightly coloured stick-men, and lopsided houses. He walked down the hall on autopilot, the hospital as familiar to him as walking around his own house. Soon he passed through a set of double doors, and into a large, airy room. There were two large windows set in the wall to his left, looking out onto the small garden below. Overly large armchairs and sofas were dotted around the room, some facing the window, some facing the flat screen TV that adorned the wall. Only a few of the chairs were taken at the early hour, filled by patients well enough to be out of bed, but still under observation by the various nurses that scurried around the room, handing out drinks and trays of food. He scanned each of the faces, searching for Gwen. He found her over on the far side of the room, handing a cup of coffee to an elderly man who had his eyes trained on the TV, and seemed to be riveted by an episode of Countdown. Arthur walked over and coughed slightly, making himself known.

"Arthur!" She said spinning around, a large smile appearing on her face. She looked at her watch and raised an eyebrow, "You got here quickly.

"There wasn't much traffic." He said with a shrug. She shook her head at him, soft brown curls bouncing around her shoulders, knowing perfectly well that he had probably broken every speed limit in his haste to get to the hospital. Arthur could help but notice that despite the early hour, and the unflattering blue scrubs, Gwen still managed to look stunning.

"You're fathers still being put through some tests, but he should be out soon." She smiled, "Unfortunately, I've got to go check on the patients in private rooms… But you're quite welcome to wait here for him." Arthur nodded with a smile, and watched with slight disappointment as she left.

Arthur had met Gwen on that first awful night at the hospital. He had been left sitting in an uncomfortable waiting room as they took his father in for surgery. Every now and again a random nurse would come along and ask Arthur if he was okay, to which he assured them he was. Still, he must have looked awful, or lied badly, because after half an hour of almost unbearable waiting for news about his father, Gwen had come along and sat with him. She supplied the sympathy and endless cups of tea that Arthur desperately needed. Since then, every time Arthur visited his father in the hospital he sought out Gwen; his mood always brightened her by her warm smile, and easy talk. He had tried, on countless occasions, to summon up the courage to invite her out one night, but it always failed him at the last moment.

Thoughts returning to the present, he looked at the room around him awkwardly, not sure where to sit. Finally he chose a chair near the window, far enough away from the other occupants of the room that he wouldn't be forced engage in any awkward conversations. Lazily he watched the TV out of the corner of his eye, eyebrow raised in wonder that anyone could find the slow paced program interesting. A nurse came along and offered him a cup of tea, which he accepted, grateful for the distraction. A ball of nerves was beginning to grow in his chest. He knew it was odd, being nervous about seeing his own father, but he couldn't help it. He and Uther had never had the best relationship, not that they disliked each other or anything, but Arthur found talking to his father difficult. Uther was a very driven person; he knew what he wanted in life, and he would stop at nothing to get it. And what Uther wanted, was power. Arthur had always resented the fact that his father was never totally happy unless he had complete control over everyone and everything, including his son. His 'talks' with Uther, usually consisted of his father droning on about everything Arthur was doing wrong in his life. '_By the time I was your age,' _Uther would say, '_I had already made my first million.' _There was never anything Arthur could say to that, apart from point out the fact that he did not have the mind for business that his father had. He wasn't even sure exactly _what_ his father did for a living… He was afraid to ask, sure that the question would lead to a long and overly detailed explanation that would eventually make him want to jump out a window just to distract from the boredom.

The doors behind him squeaked, and Arthur quickly twisted round in his chair to see who it was. To his disappointment, he saw that it wasn't his father, but a tall, dark haired boy, accompanied by a nurse. Arthur frowned; surprised to see that the boy was about his own age, usually they kept the younger patients on the lower floors. The nurse led the boy over to a chair on the other side of the room, his eyes never leaving the floor, and sat him down. She fussed over him for a bit, crouching down by the chair and talking in a soft tone that Arthur couldn't quite hear, then she left, calling over her shoulder that she would be back in ten minutes, the boy didn't respond. Arthur watched him, more out of boredom then any real curiosity. He was tall, probably about the same height as Arthur, if not slightly taller, but unlike Arthur he was painfully skinny; his overly pale skin looked stretched out over his high, jutting out cheekbones. The rest of his boy was covered by overly large worn clothing, but Arthur suspected that underneath his ribs would be clearly visible. He wondered for a moment if the boy was anorexic. He certainly looked it.

Behind him the door could be heard opening again, and Arthur turned to see Gwen walking in the room, she looked around for a moment, then spotting Arthur, walked over to him. Arthur stood up and smiled, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye that the boy still hadn't looked up from his constant study of the floor.

"Arthur!" Gwen said with a smile, "You're fathers back from his tests, but he said he'd prefer meet you in private, not quite up to being around people."

"Nothing's changed there then," Arthur mumbled. "Is he okay then?"

"It's remarkable Arthur, he's absolutely fine, never seen a recovery like it. He'd be up and back to work already if we let him." Gwen looked slightly bewildered, as if the whole matter confused her. "It really is amazing… Anyway, you ready? He's just down the hall."

Arthur nodded and stood up, placing his half-drunk cup of tea on the small table next to the chair. "Lead on."

Gwen led him across the room and towards the door. She chatted happily to him about the results of his father's tests; most of it sounded like complete gibberish to Arthur, but he was happy just to hear her talk. He was halfway out the door when he felt an odd itch between his shoulders and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Reflexively he looked round, and scanned the room. Everything looked exactly the same, and Arthur was just turning to leave again when he noticed the dark haired boy had shifted his gaze from the ground, and was staring directly at Arthur. Although Arthur had not thought it possible, the boy looked even paler then before, his eyes were wide and panicked, his mouth open slightly. Arthur frowned, and looked behind him, unsure what caused the boy to stare at him in such a way. When he looked back the boy was taking short, fast breaths, the panicked expression still frozen on his face. Arthur stood, glued to the spot, unsure what to do. Before he could reach a decision, the nurse that had brought the boy in rushed past, knocking Arthur out the way. She knelt down in front of the boy, breaking his eye contact with Arthur, and started talking softly to him. Not knowing what else to do, Arthur turned and left, jogging down the hall to catch up with Gwen.

"You okay?" She asked, glancing at him sideways.

"I'm fine." He replied, "Why?"

"You look a little pale."

They continued walking in silence. Just before they turned the corner, Arthur looked back. He could have sworn he heard someone calling his name.

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**Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey! So here we are; Chapter two! **

**Yeah so this is basically a lot of Merlin angst and stuff... **

**Please, please, ****_please, _****review! It really means a lot to me, just comment anything! If there's something you don't like, or if there's something you'd like to see in the story, please let me know!**

**Okay so onto the chapter:**

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Merlin watched the dull, blue doors swing shut with wide eyes, and shaking breaths. Thoughts swirling round his head felt foggy and thick; jumbling together in a dark mess that Merlin could not understand. He couldn't believe what he had just seen. _I'm going mad_, he thought, it was the only logical explanation for what he had just seen. It couldn't have been _him._ And yet… It had looked so much like him. Standing there, just a few meters away, Merlin had seen the replica of the man he had trained himself not to think about. Details that he had forgotten about _him_ came flooding back in a raging wave of nostalgia, and sadness. Swelling up inside his chest until he felt sure he would burst with just pain of _remembering_. That life, and all that had happened in it, he had mourned for so long and so deeply that in the end simply _forgetting _it would have been a blessing. He had tried to forget, everything and anything about that life that in the end had caused him so much _pain_ _and_ misery that he wanted to lie down and die rather than remember even the smallest details. But he _couldn't_ forget; the memories clung to the corners of his mind, hiding just long enough that he would let his guards down, only to have all them all come flooding back. He was haunted by the memories, _tormented_ by them. And there was no escape.

For centuries upon centuries Merlin had suffered. And now, it seemed, he was finally going mad. _I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner; I mean really, you've been a mess for years, _spoke the voice in his head that still held the remnants of who he used to be. _It couldn't have been him. It wasn't. You imagined it. _ The words like repeated a mantra in his head, over and over. _But what if it was? _Another part of him screamed. _What if Arthur is back? Arthur. _It had been so long since he had even thought of that name. He had blocked it out to stop the pain of remembering, but now it filled his mind like a fog, repeating itself over and over, as if making up for lost time.

Merlin shook his head, trying in vain to clear it. His conflicting thoughts screamed in his head, each trying to be heard above the others. _You have to follow him. You have to find him._ _But what if it's not him? I can't get my hopes up just for them to be crushed! But what if it is? Could you forgive yourself if you didn't follow? _He clenched his fists by his sides, and stared at the wooden door. Vaguely he was aware of the nurse in front of him trying to find out what was wrong. Nancy, he thought her name was, she was a nice woman, but had a habit of treating Merlin as if he were made of glass and might shatter any minute. He looked at her, forced a slight smile onto his face and tried to ease his panicked breathing, knowing it was probably the only way to ease the concerned frown that sat on her brow.

_"_Sorry, I'm fine, really." He lied, trying to look like he was in control of his emotions.

"Are you? Because, well, you look like you've seen a ghost." She said jokingly, a cornered edge to her voice.

Merlin couldn't help but laugh at that, even if it did sound a bit manic. "That's a surprisingly accurate description."

Nancy frowned, clearly not quite sure if what he meant and possibly doubting his mental health.

"I thought I saw an old friend of mine… "He explained, "I got a bit panicked because, well… It's not the best place to reunite is it?" Merlin mentally crossed his fingers, hoping that Nancy would believe his excuse and not question it any further.

Thankfully, it seemed, she did. She nodded at him sympathetically, squeezing his hand. "It's okay, I understand. Do you want to go back downstairs to your room?"

"No," He said automatically, _I have to find him_. "But could I get a cup of tea? It helps me calm down, you know?"

"Of course," She smiled, "I'll be right back, okay? If you need me, just ask one of the other nurses to find me."

Merlin nodded and assured her he would be fine with another fake smile. He watched her leave the room, then got up and walked to the door, glad that the other nurses in the room didn't stop him. He poked his head out just in time to see Nancy disappear through a door into what he assumed was the tea making/ staff room. Cautiously he stepped out into the now empty hallway and looked around him. The long hallway stretched out in front of him, another equally long hallway branching out to his left that ended in a sharp corner and led, if Merlin's memory was correct, to the large private rooms given to those with extreme wealth, or good insurance. He frowned, unsure where to turn. Arthur didn't look ill when Merlin saw him, so it was unlikely that he was in long term care like the other occupants of the room. So he must be visiting someone who was, Merlin reasoned. He looked down each hallway and bit his lip. He used to be able to make decisions like this so easily; he would just follow his bare instinct, sure that destiny would lead him down the right path. But he had given up on destiny a long time ago, stopped trusting in it, wary at the force that had kept him alive for so many years. He had blocked off the part of his mind that urged him to go one way or another, deifying it to the point where he would go out of his way to disobey its instructions. But now it was stronger than ever, urging his limbs to move in the direction it chose, and for the first time in centuries he allowed himself to be guided, knowing it was the only way that he was going to find Arthur, if it was Arthur he saw and not a figment of his imagination, in this maze of a building.

He turned left, strode down the hall, and turned the corner. The hall was lined with doors, each with a number printed on in blue. Merlin walked slowly, knowing Arthur could be behind any of them, but never stopped to check. Halfway down he slowed to a stop in front of a door, seemingly exactly the same as all the others. And yet, he _knew_ that he would find Arthur behind this one, he was certain of it.

Merlin reached a hand out towards the handle, but stopped halfway and let it fall back to his side. He stared at the white wood of the door, thoughts once again racing through his head. When did he start to think this much? He remembered a time when he would rush into a battle without a second thought, and now here he was, afraid to open a door. _Why_ was he afraid? Didn't he want to see Arthur again? _It might not be Arthur, _he reminded himself, _it might be a complete stranger behind that door_. But somehow, Merlin knew it wasn't. And rather than comforting him, the thought made him more afraid than ever. He had waited so long, centuries, for Arthur to return. He had longed for so long to get back even the slightest remnant of that life that he had lived so happily before it all came crashing down around him. But he had also changed more than he thought possible. What would Arthur find when he looked at Merlin? Gone was the happy, slightly goofy servant, and now standing here today was a broken fragment of the man he had once been. Merlin looked down at himself; His too baggy clothes, pale stretched skin. He knew, even without looking in a mirror, that his hair was over grown and greasy, and dark bags hung under his eyes. His eyes shifted down to his sleeves, and he shuddered slightly at the thought of what they hid. How would he tell Arthur? How could he possibly begin to explain the thoughts that lead him down the path of violent self-destruction? If Arthur found out all he had done since Camelot had fallen into ruin, would he ever look at Merlin the same way again? Or would he, like every other person he knew, treat him as if he were a bomb about to explode at any moment? Merlin closed his eyes and shook his head as a familiar wave of self-loathing crashed over him, tears pricking his eyes. He couldn't do it. He couldn't meet Arthur like this. Destiny could wait a little longer.

"What the…" Exclaimed a voice, and Merlin immediately jumped backwards in shock, eyes snapping open. Destiny, it seemed, had taken things into its own hands.

Merlin stared at the slightly bewildered looking figure in the doorway with wide eyes.

"Arthur." He breathed, as he felt an all too familiar panic rise into his chest. Memories of Camelot and his life there leapt into his mind uninvited, brought back with painful clarity by the sight of his friends face. He was alive, Arthur was here, and he was alive. It felt so odd, looking into his friends eyes once again. His gaze so gracefully alive, and so unlike the last time Merlin had seen them.

"Are you okay?" Arthur said, and Merlin noted his slightly wonky teeth. It was funny, the little imperfections the memory glossed over throughout time, as if it wanted to cast everybody in their best light.

"I-I'm fine." Merlin stuttered out, still studying Arthur. He seemed healthy, even slightly younger then what Merlin remembered; the deep lines of worry and stress that had been drawn on his face from years as king were gone, giving him a slightly more youthful complexion. He wore modern clothes, an old, and worn looking blue hoody, dark jeans, and black trainers. They looked wrong in Merlin's eyes, so different from the chainmail and armor of his memories.

"Are you sure? I can go get a nurse…" Arthur said, looking slightly uncomfortable. Merlin frowned. Why was Arthur acting so natural about this? Wasn't as was shocked to see Merlin as Merlin was to see him?

"I'm fine, Arthur." He muttered and narrowed his eyes as Arthur frowned at him.

"How do you know my name?" He demanded suspiciously.

Merlin felt an uneasy feeling begin to grow in his chest. Surly he hadn't changed beyond all recognition? Arthur must be able to recognize him still… "It's me, Arthur," He said cautiously, "Merlin."

Arthur looked slightly confused and shook his head slightly, "Nope, sorry, doesn't ring a bell… Did we go to school together or something?"

"I… We… Arthur, _it's me_." Merlin said, pleading. His heart racing in his chest, he tried to get a handle on the situation, but his head felt light and the room seemed to swim around him. _No, please not now, _he thought, _I do not want to do this now! _

"Sorry, I can't remember you… Are you sure you're okay?" Arthur looked concerned, and Merlin noticed the way his arms tensed at his sides, as if ready to reach out and catch Merlin if he fell. _I can't remember you_. The words echoed uncomfortably around his mind, and seemed to hang in the air around him. _He can't remember you; he doesn't know who you are. _But it was Arthur! How could Arthur not remember him? The hall either side of Merlin seemed to stretch out endlessly, neither beginning nor ending, and Arthur's form seemed to retreat from him, shrinking into the distance. _No, no, no, no! Please don't do this now! _But it was too late. Merlin felt the panic in his chest overwhelm him and he sunk to the floor with closed eyes. A lump had formed in his throat, choking him, and he gasped in short breaths. _Arthur can't remember you_, his own mind taunted him, _after all this time that you've waited, he can't remember! Your destiny was wrong, he doesn't need you. _Merlin's whole body started to tremble uncontrollably, but he hardly noticed, his own thoughts blocking everything else out. _You're going mad. Look at you, quivering on the floor, scared of your own mind. I bet there never even was any Camelot, you probably made the whole thing up. You're mad, crazy. Why else would Arthur not remember you? There probably isn't even an Arthur. Look at you, you're pathetic! _The thoughts continued, on and on, and the more Merlin tried to clear his mind and calm down, the stronger they seemed to become. Instead, he focused on his breathing, counting each inhale and exhale and measuring their length. Vaguely he heard a soft voice talking to him, he couldn't make out the words, but it was comforting having something to listen to that wasn't his own poisoned thoughts.

He continued that way for some time, until his breathing had returned almost to normal, and his heart to its regular pace. The softly spoken words became clearer now; promises that everything would be fine soon, and assurances that the panic would pass. Merlin clung onto the words, using them to drag himself out of his own mind, and back to the present. He opened eyes slowly, only to find himself staring directly into another's. Arthur was crouching in front of him, still talking, and looking extremely concerned. Seeing Merlin's open eyes he reached out slowly and placed a hand on his shoulder, he squeezed it reassuringly, and then let his arm drop back to his side.

Merlin stared at him awkwardly, still shaking slightly. "I- uh… Thank you." He muttered, not sure what else to say.

"It's fine. I used to have a mate back in collage that had panic attacks, awful things. Still, I tried to help when I could." Arthur stood up and held a hand out to Merlin. He hesitated, but took it, appreciating the gesture. He rose slowly, and then stood swaying slightly on the spot, unsure what to do.

"Do you want me to call someone, a nurse or something?"

"No, no it's fine. I'm... I'm used to it. I'll be fine in a minute."

"Right…" There was an awkward pause, and Merlin searched his mind for something to say. More than anything he wanted to leave and be alone. Maybe then he would be able to come up some explanation as to why Arthur had no recollection of his previous life.

"I… I better be going." He mumbled, "Sorry about… Everything." He turned away, and slowly walked down the hall, one hand against the wall, steadying him.

"Merlin!" Arthur called from behind him, and Merlin couldn't help smile at the familiarity of the sound and he turned round.

"Yeah?"

"Look, I-um- I have to go now, I've got to go to work, but I'll be coming in again tomorrow, maybe we could figure out where you know me from?"

Merlin frowned slightly, confused at the invitation, but nodded anyway. He needed to talk to Arthur; he needed to find out exactly what the _hell_ was going on.

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**Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up soon! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! So, sorry for making you wait for so long. I have no excuses, I've just been really lazy about writing. This chapter is slightly (okay, maybe a lot) shorter then the others, but I just wanted to upload _something_. So yeah, this is just a sort of of fun chapter because this is going to get a lot more serious and whumpy soon...**

**I'll try my best to upload quicker in the future. **

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"Here you go Princess!"

Arthur looked up from his mobile to see a large beer slammed down in front of him, the pale amber liquid spilling over the edge of the glass and onto the waxed wooden table. Quickly he grabbed a napkin and mopped up the mess, frowning with mock anger at his grinning friend who sat down opposite him. "If you call me that one more time I'll murder you."

"Oh yeah? And then whose bar would you go to every night? Really Princess, you need to think these things through." Gwaine grinned, idly pushing back a strand of messy, overly long, dark hair, and taking a gulp of beer.

Arthur just shook his head, hiding his smile by taking a sip of his own drink. "So I got a call from Gwen this morning," Arthur announced, smiling.

"Let me guess, she called you up to announce her undying love for you, and you've spent the whole day having glorious sex, after which you dumped her to come tell me all the details… Well I'm honoured Arthur. Please, tell away."

Arthur glared at his friend, "No, that's _not_ why she called. And if I ever did hook up with Gwen you would be the _last_ person I would tell the details to."

Gwaine held his hand to his heart and gasped as if deeply hurt, "Arthur, I am your _best friend_-"

"No you're not." Arthur said, deadpan.

"I am you're best friend," Gwaine continued as if he had not heard, "And it is an unwritten agreement that best friends-"

"Not my best friend."

"-tell each other _everything_. By ignoring that duty you are ignoring the sacred…ness of best friendship."

Arthur just stared at him, one eyebrow raised. "Uh huh… Well if you're quite finished I could tell you the _real_ reason why she called."

"Fine," Said, looking grumpy, then quickly changed his expression into one of mock interest, "Why did Gwen call you Arthur?"

"It was about Uther." He said, and Gwaine immediately turned serious, knowing how important the subject was to Arthur. "He's awake."

Gwaine's face broke out in a large smile, and he slapped his hand loudly on the table, making their pints of beer rattle, and half the bar to turn round and look at him.

"Sorry!" He called, smiling widely until everyone turned back to their drinks. He turned his gaze to Arthur, and reached across the table to playfully hit him on the arm. "That's amazing Arthur! Have you been to see him?"

"Yeah, went down this morning before work. He's fine… They ran a bunch of tests, but each of them came back saying he was perfectly healthy. They're keeping him in for a few days, just to monitor him, but they're saying he'll be able to go home soon."

"That's awesome Arthur, it really is." Gwaine said with such genuine warmth and happiness that Arthur couldn't help but feel touched. Gwaine and his father had never really gotten on very well; Uther's business like personality clashing with Gwaine's care-free nature. Still, Gwaine had been there to keep Arthur from plunging into depression when his father had seemed likely never to recover. The bar Gwaine owned, 'The Rising Sun' had become almost like a second home to Arthur. Just a few minutes' walk from his house, he spent almost every night there.

"So, have you told any of the other's yet?"

"Told us what?" Came a voice from behind Arthur, and he smiled turning round to see three of his friends approaching. Arthur slid along the bench to make room, Gwaine sitting opposite doing the same. Percival- known to everyone as Percy- was easily as big as two men in pure muscle alone, and slid in next to Gwaine filling the rest of the bench. Lance and Leon sat beside Arthur.

Lance's full name was a mystery to all but the man himself, and had apparently been the bane of his life as a child. He was a by far the quietest member of the group, and had good sense responsibility and maturity, meaning that he often argued with Gwaine, who had neither. Still, Lance was as loyal as they come, always willing to help out with whatever you needed.

Leon had been a friend of Arthur's since he was a child. They had that kind of comfortable relationship where they could sit in silence for hours on end and not feel awkward for a moment.

"So what's up?" Questioned Lance, looking from the still smiling Gwaine to Arthur, and back again.

"You tell 'em," said Gwaine, "I'll go get these gents some drinks."

"Yeah, who is looking after the bar?" Questioned Leon as Gwaine stood.

"Some kid I hired… Mordred. He seems competent enough. Hasn't spilled any drinks yet anyway."

"So already better then you." Said Percy, with a smile.

"Wait… His name's Mordred?" Said Leon, "Who calls their kid _Mordred_?"

Gwaine just shrugged his shoulders and walked towards the bar.

"So, what's this news then?" Said Lance, turning to look at Arthur.

Smiling, he told them, and was rewarded with warm congratulations and friendly slaps on the back. Gwaine came back, clutching three large beers and they each lifted their own into the air, crashing the glasses together with a cheerful shout of 'To Uther!' The table was cast into silence for a while as all its occupants sipped at their drinks.

"So this Mordred, where did you find him?" Said Leon, returning to their previous subject.

Gwaine wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and glanced behind him to the bar where the boy was serving drinks to a bunch of laughing girls. "He walked in here a couple of days ago, asking if there were any jobs going. Thought I'd give him a chance, he's a good kid. And as you can see, brings in a new group of cliental."

"Still… I'd keep an eye on him if I were you… Kids with weird names like that usually come from equally weird families." Replied Leon, looking suspicious.

"Hey, that's not fair, he could be perfectly normal. It's not his fault he's got a weird name…" Said Lance, looking slightly sulky.

"Sorry," Replied Leon "forgot it was such a sensitive issue." He grinned and took a sip of his drink.

"Talking of weird names," Said Arthur, ignoring the glaring Lance, "Do you know a guy called Merlin?"

Leon looked at him with a disbelieving frown, "Merlin?" He questioned, "As in the wizard with the pointy hat?"

Arthur shook his head, "No, not that Merlin. He's a guy, about our age. I met him today at the hospital… He said that he knew me, and when I said I couldn't remember him from anywhere, he completely broke down and started having a panic attack. I thought he might be from school or something, I was wondering if you remembered him."

Leon shook his head slowly, "No… I don't think so. What does he look like?"

Arthur gestured just above his head, "A bit taller than me, and skinny, dark hair. Shockingly pale, although that may be due to being in hospital."

"No… He doesn't ring any bells. I think I would remember meeting a guy called Merlin."

Arthur just nodded, slightly disappointed. He desperately wanted to find out more about Merlin. For some unknown reason the boy fascinated him. There was something about him… Arthur could quite put his finger on it. It was like he had met the boy before, and yet at the same time knew him to be a complete stranger. And the way he had looked at Arthur, like he was afraid of him, was just strange. What had he done to this boy to make him look at Arthur with such fear? Arthur had never been a bully. As a child he tried to stand up for those who were picked on, it was a fact that he was proud of. So why was Merlin afraid? And _why_ did he react the way he did when Arthur said he didn't remember him? In collage he had shared a room with a friend, who had panic attacks, and Arthur had gotten used to comforting him, the attacks didn't scare him. But Merlin's had sent waves of dread spreading though him, and an unfamiliar panic rose to his chest. For some reason the sight of Merlin, shaking and pale on the floor, struck him as something very, very _wrong_. He couldn't explain it, not even to himself. He just knew that Merlin should not act like that. He shouldn't be so… _broken_. It was like an instinct, a primal urge that sounded whining alarm bells in his head that screamed 'this_ is wrong!'_

Arthur mentally shook himself, and tried to tune back into the conversation going on around him. There was no point in getting so worked up over a complete stranger. Anyway, he would see Merlin tomorrow. Maybe then he could get some answers.

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**As always comments and reviews are appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey! Okay, so new chapter, kind of long, but then again I haven't updated in a while and I know how annoying that is when you're reading a fic.  
My only excuse is that I have recently discovered Teen Wolf, and watched all three seasons in a week (Okay, maybe that's not a very good excuse.).**

**So anyway, here's the chapter, I hope you like it, and thank you for all your amazing reviews!**

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_He was there again. He had fallen into the deep pit of darkness that haunted him at night. It had been a while since he had been there, and he thought that maybe the dreams had stopped. If they were dreams, they always felt so real. Merlin looked around him, the familiar feeling of unease that the place radiated sinking below his flesh and clutching his rapidly beating heart. The air here was thick, and bitter, it tasted and smelt like dried blood. It was suffocating, like breathing in dark oil that burnt your throat and tore at your lungs. _

_Light didn't exist here; darkness reigned, covering everything like a thick clinging cloak that never ended. Horrible monsters lived in that darkness. They hid in it, their movements so silent that you did not know they were there until they pounced, tearing away at your flesh with vicious claws and teeth, until you were begging for death. Merlin had fallen prey to them more times than he could count. The agony was unbearable, like nothing he had ever experienced. Only when he was left taking his last few stuttering breaths and drowning in a pool of his own blood would he be pulled, screaming back into the real world and away from the enteral darkness. He would never find a single scratch on his skin, and yet he felt the burning pain of the wounds as if they were still bleeding out. _

_He hated the place, and feared it. But there was no way to wake from the dream. He just had to wait. Wait for the monsters to come. Sometimes, the monsters would not appear, and Merlin would wait for an eternity. He never grew hungry, thirsty, or tired. He just had to wait, so painfully conscious of every passing second that he would scream aloud just to break the never ending silence, and tear at his hair and skin to break the numbness he felt. But the monsters would always come in the end. _

_Merlin looked around him, although he knew it was useless, there was nothing to see in the dark, and bit his lip. Tears fell uncontrollably from his eyes as he lowered himself to the floor and sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms curled around them. He rocked back and forth slightly and couldn't help but sob. He didn't want to do this, not again. _

_"It's not pleasant is it? This place?" _

_Merlin's head shot up, his eyes wide. Never in all the times he had been here had he seen, or heard another human. He looked around him once again but nothing could be seen._

_"Don't feel like talking?" Said the voice. It was deep and menacing, almost like a hiss in parts, but Merlin could tell the owner was mocking him. Almost as a reflex, he sat a little straighter, and managed to grasp some control over the tears falling from his eyes. _

_"Well, I guess that's a good thing, because I don't want you to talk, Merlin, I want you to listen."_

_"Who are you?" He called, trying to sound more confident than he was, "How do you know my name?"_

_The voice laughed; a low rumble like thunder that seemed to echo all around him. "Oh I know so much more than just your name Merlin. And as for whom I am, well, you don't need to know. Not just yet." _

_Merlin went to protest, but found his mouth numb and unresponsive. He let out a small moan of distress, and the laughter echoed around him again. _

_"Now, now, it's rude to interrupt people Merlin, didn't your mother ever teach you that? I've already told you that I want to you listen. Not for my own sake of course, but for yours, you see, what I'm about to tell you is very important." _

_Footsteps echoed around him, and he turned his head wildly trying to figure out which direction they came from, but the echoing made it impossible. Suddenly chills rippled down his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He tried to turn, but the same invisible force that held his tongue had now frozen him in place, unable to make any movement from the neck down. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, as panic shot through his veins._

_"There's no need to get yourself worked up, Merlin. I'm not going to kill you." _

_He felt the man's breath on the back of his neck now, cold and stale smelling. He would have shivered if it had not been for his bindings. How could a person's breath be so cold? An answer leapt to the front of his mind instantly, but he pushed it back, fearing that it may be the truth. _

_"At least, not now anyway," the voice continued, whispering in Merlin's ear, "Who knows what I may do in the future? I am very unpredictable sometimes, even I don't know what I'm going to do next most of the time... I just go with it." _

_Something sharp cut into the skin of his cheek, creating a long bleeding wound, but Merlin did not cry out. He had faced worse pain; such relatively small cuts no longer bothered him._

_"This place, Merlin, do you know what it is? It's part of the spirit world, reserved especially for those who committed great wrongs in their life... For those who broke the rules of magic, who broke the rules of the universe itself. After their deaths, they are placed here, to pay for the wrongs they have committed. They are damned to spend an eternity rotting away in darkness with no relief or even the hope that one day they will be released!" The voice was rising now, angry. "Hell is a luxury compared to here, those who reside in this place wish for hell, long for it as if it were a long lost lover." His voiced quietened again, lowing back to its menacing whisper. "Have you met those who spend their days here, Merlin? Those who have lived here so long that they themselves have almost become darkness? They are silent and quick, and need no light to see, for they can hear and smell better than anything living..."_

_Merlin stiffened where he sat, memories of biting teeth, and tearing claws flashing through his mind. _

_"Ahh... I see you have met them. Although, I expect you didn't know what they were. They were once like you Merlin, no different in appearance then other humans. But time spent in the dark has rotted them, until their skin turned ghostly pale, and their nails grew into claws."_

_Merlin's eyes grew wide, his mind hopelessly trying to process this new information. How could those… things, be human? No human could be that ruthless, that wild. _

_"Don't believe me?" Said the voice as if he had read Merlin's mind, "I can't say I blame you, I wouldn't have believed it myself if I were in your situation. You've been their victim haven't you? You've felt their tearing claws. Almost like an animal's, aren't they? I suppose that's all they are now… They've lost all sense of themselves, forgotten their past lives and everything that happened. Darkness is a funny thing, Merlin, for through darkness our truest fears are revealed. Whether it is monsters lurking in the corners, or a wild animal on the prowl, or even the fear that you are truly alone, darkness can reveal a lot about a person, but it can also break a person. And I'm sorry to say that is the fate my friends here have suffered." His tone dripped with mock pity, and he gave a small laugh that contained no happiness or humour. "But don't worry Merlin, no don't worry, because they'll be free soon… They'll be released from this prison, and set free to wonder the world…"_

_Images swept through Merlin's mind, of terrible creatures roaming the earth, blood-stained claws grabbing and tearing at anything that blocked their path, sweeping through fields of corpses, the sky dark and trebling with thunder. He tried to move, but it was in vain, the invisible bonds still held him in place. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the images, but they rushed the front of his mind unbidden. _

_"Do you see it Merlin? Do you see the kingdom they will create? A place of terror and destruction, where all mortal things will be wiped from the earth… And you're going to help them create that world. You will be the spark that starts the fire Merlin…"_

_More images cascaded through his head: Himself, standing on a hill watching over a burning city, the bright flames licking the dark sky, burnt bodies, disfigured beyond recognition, screaming out for help, a small child calling out for its mother, tears running down its blood-stained cheeks. _

_"No!" He called out, the magic numbing his mouth shattering. "I would never aid such a world!"_

_"It seems that your magic is still strong Merlin. That's good… You will need it. But you are wrong. You will help to build a new world, in fact, you have already helped, you are helping right now."_

_"What do you mean?" Merlin called, struggling against the bonds that froze his body. _

_"You can't stop us Merlin… You are rotten, fading, a husk of the man your power could allow you to be."_

_"Magic does not exist anymore! It is gone from the world!"_

_The voice laughed again, it slowly growing louder until it was echoing all around him and his very bones seemed to vibrate with it._

_"Magic cannot fade from the world Merlin, only those who use it."_

_Merlin tried to reply, but the spell numbing his mouth had been replaced. _

_"It's time for you to go Merlin… You're going to have to wake up."_

_Merlin stiffened and clenched his teeth together. There was no way to 'wake up'; the only way to escape this place was to-_

_ A sharp pain exploded in his throat, and he felt a stream of warm blood pour out of him, collecting around his feet. He tried to call out, but his mouth was filled with the sickly taste of blood. _

_"Oh, one last thing," Called the voice, sounding distant to Merlin's ears, "Don't let them remember you, not if you value their lives."_

Merlin's eyes shot open, and he stared at the unfamiliar surroundings. His heart was racing, pounding so hard against his chest that he thought it might break out. With shaking hands he lifted himself up from where he lay, and tried to get a better look around him. Through a small window, the full moon was glowing brightly against the night sky, illuminating the room around him. It was small, impersonal, and contained nothing but the small bed on which he lay, a wooden dresser, and a small TV fixed to the wall. _You're in hospital idiot. _Merlin sighed and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, taking comfort in the pressure. Never had he had a dream like that before. _But was it a dream? It never feels like a dream. _By his side he tightened his hands into fists, trying to suppress the memories of it, but the whole event was still fresh in his mind and he could call upon the details with horrifying clarity. He felt sick to his stomach, as if he could still taste the blood which had so freely flowed into his mouth. He reached to the dresser by his bed, grateful for the glass of water which one of the nurses always left there. He gripped it tightly, and took a small sip, then set it down again. He stared at the glass in shock. The surface, that had been completely clean only a second ago, was now covered in slightly smudged scarlet. A sense of dread filled him, and he lifted his hand in front of his face. It too was stained scarlet, dripping with warm fresh blood. Panicking he leapt from the bed, still staring at his hand, and rushed towards the small door that led to the bathroom. He pulled it open and stumbled through, hitting the light switch. The startlingly bright lights flickered into action, dazing him for a moment as he rushed towards the mirror. His reflection stared back at him, dark sunken eyes wide with horror. Blood coated his face, hands, clothes, neck… He pulled himself towards the sink, and turned on the tap. The water was freezing cold but Merlin paid no heed to it as he desperately tried to wash the still wet blood off himself. As the mess of scarlet dripped off his face and neck and drained down the sink, he noticed the angry red line that slashed across his neck. He lifted a hand, and carefully traced his finger along it. The skin was warm and painful to touch, like a wound that had only just begun to heal. His mind raced, processing the new information. Never before had he awoke from one of The Dreams with any sort of hint that what he had experienced was part of reality. All the times that he had died in that place, and never had he awoken with so much as a scratch. But now… Merlin leaned in closer to the mirror, inspecting the wound. It was about one centimeter thick, a near perfect straight line that spanned across his lower throat. The skin was an angry red, and swollen. _Yet another scar to worry about, _he thought. Carefully he washed off the remaining blood, his mind cluttered with roaming thoughts. Why had he been left with a scar? Who was the owner of the voice? Is what he had said true? Could those things really be set lose in the world? The latter sent waves of fear through Merlin, the images that had rushed through his mind whilst the voice talked returning to him. He couldn't let such a world come to pass, could he? And yet, if what the voice had said was true, then how could he stop it? He was powerless against such a force, his magic gone.

The blood gone he turned the tap off and sighed. Why was it that nothing could happen for so long, and then suddenly everything happened at once? His thoughts wondered briefly to Arthur, and the voice's warning. Why would Arthur remembering endanger Arthur's life? And why warn Merlin if it did? Surely the voice didn't care whether or not Arthur lived? And, most importantly, why did the voice say '_them_'. Could it be that not only had Arthur returned, but others as well? The thought was too much for Merlin, and he pushed it back to re-examine later.

He looked down at his blood-stained t-shirt and paused for a second before pulling it off, and throwing it into the corner. In a reflex he turned away from the mirror.

Merlin walked back into his room, and turned on the lights, flooding the room with a too bright light that matched that of the bathroom. He stared at the bed, the closed his eyes in tired frustration. The sheets, as well as the covers were stained crimson. He was startled for a second at the pure amount of blood. How could he have bled that much and still be alive? _You know why_. Merlin scowled and shut the thought out. Nevertheless he still had to deal with it somehow. He couldn't ask the nurses to clean them; it would raise too many questions. And short of throwing them out the window, where they would inevitably be found anyway, there was no way of getting rid of them.

Tears of frustration welled up and spilled onto his cheeks. How could everything be so messed up? Arthur, and possibly others, were back, but couldn't remember him. He was having scarily realistic dreams that resulted in him getting his throat slit. There was the possibility that he was going to help bring around the end of the world. He was hearing strange voices. And now he had to figure out a way to explain to a bunch of worried medical professionals why there was a whole body's worth of blood covering his bed. All in all, he wasn't having a very good day.

_You could always use magic… _Merlin was surprised by the thought, almost angry at it. _You're angry at your own thoughts? Wow, you really are losing it aren't you? Common, using a little magic won't hurt… _

"No." Merlin said aloud, "I can't… I can't use magic. It's gone from the world, it doesn't exist." _Is it though? You remember what the voice said… 'Magic cannot fade from the world.'_ Merlin thought about it. Could the words be true? He hadn't used magic for so long; he felt its presence missing like a hole in his chest. He thought that it had died, like everything else from that time. But could it be that he had just suppressed it for too long? _The spell is simple… You've used it so many times, just try it…" _He glanced over to the bed. There was no way he was going to be able to explain the blood to the nurses, there was just too much of it. _One little spell won't hurt. _But what if it didn't work? _Then you're right, magic has died, and the creepy voice was wrong. _That decided it for Merlin. He needed to know if what the voice had said was true. He _had_ to know.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin focused on the bed, the spell for syphoning off the blood and turning it to dust already on the tip of his tongue. He felt a small hint of excitement, but it was overwhelmed by his nervousness. A small memory jumped to the front of his mind, of sitting his old room in Camelot and the dusty book of magic that Gaius had given him on the floor in front of him, one of Arthur's favourite shirts clutched in his hand as he muttered the spell and watched in wonder as a red wine stain shrunk and then disappeared altogether.

Despite himself Merlin smiled, stuck in that moment, and let the spell slip from his lips once more.

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**Comments and reviews are much appreciated, and I swear I won't get distracted again!***

***Okay, I can't promise anything, but I'll try not to get distracted... **


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